Monster
by My Thyla My Captain
Summary: Loki is taken back to Asgard, and placed into a torture chamber; a room of mirrors.
1. Mirrors

Hey guys! Its me again with this short one-shot. if you guys like it enough, I may make it into a story.

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_**Monster**_

No matter where he ran, nor how fast he did so, the creature was right on his heels, its chest heaving manically, mirroring his every move. The corridor was long and endless, its reaches drawing darker as he continued to sprint, but the dared not look back or retreat. He could hear the monster but a few paces behind, its breath ragged and short as it hunted him. Its red eyes glared in his direction, feral and crazed.

All he could do was push him self to run faster.

He exclaimed as he nearly tripped in the darkness, fear ripping through him as the form screeched –mad and wild. His heart pounded in his ears as he dared to look behind, petrified when he saw two pairs of glowing crimson orbs instead of only one. The beasts' bodies were lost in the dark.

Now filled with the extra sense of dread he panicked, veering left and bolting as fast as his legs would carry him into the abyss of darkness. It made no difference, though; the pair of animals kept fast on his heels. He let out another strangled cry as he ran into a wall, giving off the sound of shattering ice. Undeterred he tried to run again, but swiftly realized he was cornered, his heart stopping. He could perceive them move every time he did, yet they made no motion to attack.

Oh no, not yet.

"Pathetic little Asgardian…" hissed one of them darkly, its words echoing in his head like a scream in an abandoned mortuary. He turned, and gasped in horror.

Hundreds, if not thousands of pairs of eyes darted about, crazed and manic as their gravely inhales and exhales rung within the darkened space, denying him the chance to think. He sunk to the ground, backing into the corner as far as he could. The creature only laughed.

"This is your punishment, boy." It cooed menacingly, and as he tried to move back, the creatures only moved forward. "You failed, you waste of space. You killed many without remorse, and I suppose you think you deserve mercy?"

"Why should we care about the likes of you? Unwanted. Abandoned. Despised." Another replied lowly, its voice sharp. "Your own father never wanted you. Not even that monster – that thing –could stand you. What makes you think that you're untouchable? Because you're a god?"

And that's when it happened; it started at the base of his skull - the rough, mind-numbing vibration then gut-wrenching agony that followed along the length of his spine, quickly enrapturing his entire frame, bone by bone until it felt as though his entire body was set aflame. He couldn't hear his screams over the frenzied shrieks of the monsters, who howled in glee at his torture. His throat, raw from his earlier dash for escape, now trapped a cry as every heart beat brought on a new onslaught of anguish. His body twisted and convulsed as not an inch of his figure was spared from the misery, the breath in which he was able to shakily purge from the space was frigid.

"'Big brother' is no longer here to protect you anymore. Not after what you did. He hates you, you miserable excuse for a king."

It felt now, as if a serrated blade had plunged through his heart, and he couldn't help but screech out –animal and fearful. He heard the shattering of glass, following the sound of it crashing to the floor below, showering him with its jagged shards. He couldn't react; he couldn't even move.

"Open your eyes, maggot." He couldn't will his lids to part; if anything, he shut them tighter.

"I SAID OPEN THEM!"

He wasn't quite sure if it was fear or shock that forced his lids to snap open, but when he did, he would have traded his very soul to have retracted the reflex.

He could see now, and for once he had truly wished that he were blind. There were thousands of them, their skins an icy blue, as if they had been exposed to the barren elements for far too long, and perhaps they had. Those sickening smiles reflected back to him, cruel and heartless, their ends picking up to expose rows of stark white teeth that sharpened to points. Their eyes, a bloody crimson, flickered to him, tearing away all of his defenses and left him weak and powerless, his cowering scream lost amongst their booming laughs, ricocheting from around him in his glass prison. The runes carved deep within their skin, dating back thousands of centuries, were the brand of a monster.

The mirrors that lined his jail yelled the monstrous truth that he had tried to keep hidden from everyone, especially himself.

"Hello there…" Loki's reflection chuckled, watching as his own Asgardian façade began to bleach from his body, leaving him the thing he despised and feared most of all.

Himself.

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How was that? Please leave a review, and keep on reading my fellow Fanfictioners!

~ILJA~


	2. Fragile Immortality

Hey guys! Its me again with this short one-shot.

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_**Monster**_

Perhaps they should have seen it coming; he was already fraying at the seams when he was thrown in, his eyes crazed with blood lust and ill refuted hate. At first he made no attempt of escape, pacing about the confines of his cell measuredly. Sometimes, some of the guards noted, he would sit for hours, even days without moving in the middle of the stark white room, simply staring at his own reflection. Blue-green eyes peered back at their owners lifelessly, and soon enough he returned to his pacing.

But then several beings began to see a change.

They could only describe it as if he were a wild caged animal whose only instinct was to fight. Several times he had almost broken out from his mirrored prison, clawing at the glass that surrounded him until his fingers were cut and bloodied, causing him to fall in a heap of exhaustion, only to awaken a short time later completely healed. The muzzle that caged his silver tongue held back furious snarls of malice, resulting in him throwing his magic-infused manacled hands to the reflection once more, the mirror shattering and splintering to his feet.

He barely noticed.

For a few moments he would only stare at the cracks that webbed across the wall before they began to heal and glimmer back into place, as if nothing had happened at all. One had said he had caressed the perfection tentatively, looking at his face intently before he went ballistic, using anything – from the once elegant wooden chair that now lay in splinters upon the alabaster floor, to his own fists, now marred and bloody, dotting the room in crimson- to smash all traces of himself from his own reflection, leaving him showered in glass. Slicking back his frenzied hair, his chest heaved, leaving him to collapse onto the small cot of a bed.

One who had witnessed this spread rumors that a lone tear trekked down the dark prince's cheek.

When he had awoken the next night, though, everything was in its place.

Soon his futile tirades began to subside, Loki moving about less and less. Though the patrons looking after the God of Mischief swore that the prince slept, none could deny the black circles that took refuge beneath his sea-green eyes, looking more like fresh bruises upon his face than anything. None knew that he had spent the last month in confinement as an insomniac, closing his eyes only to keep the truth from peering back at him, but never falling asleep for the threats that clawed at his thoughts.

"…No… Place… Where he… Can't find you!" A voice would rasp menacingly, his eyes snapping open, his own thoughts driving him mad. "You think you know pain?" He would not flinch as the cold recesses of space fluttered about him, raking at his mind as his skin matched the monster that dwelled within him. He would look to himself in horror as the Jotun revealed himself, taking over half of his being as his other half remained that of his normal complexion. His mismatched eyes – one of that of a monster, blood red, and the other its tinted blue-green – would stare back at him, but he didn't move.

Most would report that was the last time they had seen any action from the raven-haired man. The only sign of life within him was the miniscule rise and fall of his chest. His thin frame, already slender to begin with, shrank even more, exposing pale skin drawn taut over a skeletal frame. His eyes, which blank on occasion, had not moved from their fixated position upon himself, watching himself deteriorate.

That's when all began to question whether an immortal could die.

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Will admit right now; not my best work. Its 2 in the morning and i wrote this in 30 minutes. Its just been bugging me all yesterday, so I had to put it up.

I may continue, or I may not. All depends on your guys' reactions.

Au revoir fellow Fanfictioners,

~ILJA~


	3. Just

_**Monster**_

Odin, perched upon his sovereignty of gold, sat alone in the grandeur of the throne room, musing silently to himself. Having sent the sentinels off, he kept himself in silence, as he would before taking a course of action in war. With his eye of blue, he looked about in monotone wonder, reflecting about his kingdom, while trying, once more, to forget about the traitor.

'The traitor's your son. You swore from the start to see him as nothing but that.' His snowy brow furrowed, his fist tightening on his staff. He grunted irritably, his free left hand moving to massage his throbbing temple.

'Yes, but that 'son' nearly destroyed all of Midgard. Lest we forget he tried to take Earth under his rule. Do not forget how he recklessly murdered countless other innocents in his quest for power.' His chest dipped in a sigh when he recounted the screams of mercy, narrated by Thor's memories. 'Do not let your emotions blind you. You are king. Your ruling was just.'

"Is that to take away my pain?" He would hiss beneath his breath, rising to his feet, dragging the staff upon the stone ground with a small clank. His armored body made soft clinks as he walked forward, his even steps thundering loudly in the area as he waltzed forward. "I gave him a fate far worse than death! What more do you expect of me?" He boomed, making his way angrily through the room. The voice only whispered three words:

'Go to him.'

He stopped midstride, his heavy cloak wrapping about his calves at his abrupt halt. His face, an empty, emotionless void, betrayed the feeling of utter turmoil within him.

He feared not his son's reaction; oh no, far from that. He feared what his son would _not _do. For those who committed a crime of most vicious intent, they were sent into the Abyss; a bewitched, mirrored chamber that lay beep within the heart of the prison. Within that place, a man's worst fears come to life, chasing and clawing at him endlessly until his psyche shattered and smoldered into ashes, which usually was not long at all. Time, adversely accelerated in the cavity, made mere seconds into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into weeks, and days into years. By the end of a month, several millennia might have passed.

Loki had been sentenced four months prior.

Those who were locked within the maze of mirrors, he mused, lived not longer after being released. Sometimes the magic within the room backfired, and made the mind accelerate and grow far older than the body, and by the time any had noticed, the captives were long since brain dead. Some had to be killed out of mercy, simply because no being, no matter how evil, deserved that utter madness slithering about their skulls. Most, though, were found dead within the morning, having killed them selves to relieve them of the horror that no being could ever endure.

Loki, though, was an immortal, and could span the lifetimes of countless men.

And perhaps that's what made his heart ache the most. That once gentle, adoring boy had turned into a villain of madness, perhaps by his own hand, and now Loki must suffer for his costly emotion. He himself wished for anything else, but exile or a death sentence would be far too kind a punishment for Loki's sins. Though his every fiber burned when he uttered the word, "Abyss" on his youngest son's day of sentence, he knew that his ruling was just and right. Just and right for Odin, the Allfather, the King of Asgard.

But inside, the father he had neglected to be writhed in anger, and wept with sorrow at the look of utter horror shown within those deep, emerald eyes. He had looked back with a cold and callus eye, but on the inside, he ached to reach out to him. He forced himself to look away, an uncaring movement to most, but if he looked on for another moment…

He shook his head. "You cannot change what must be done…" He muttered airily beneath his breath. He swore an oath at the beginning of time to do what was just and right, for the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, or the one, and Loki needed to be sentenced justly. He had to be the one to make the sentence.

But Thor…

Thor would not have made that decision, and for this the Allfather was certain. Emotion, when in dealing with his brother, had always surpassed logic in Thor's mind. He knew if he had been there on that day, and had not been whisked away to defend Midgard from a strange man called 'Doctor Doom', Thor would have done anything in his power to reject the motion. He-

"My King?"

Odin's eye flickered from their place from his reflection upon the polished ground, turning on his heel with a flutter of his cape. Frigga, her eyes downcast and distant, bore a well known sadness in them. Had she crept in while he was musing? How long was she standing there? How far in his musings had he been not to notice her presence?

She stood, regal and feminine, beside the golden throne, her delicate hand draped over the right armrest of the chair, her fingers gracing over the ancient piece. When she looked up, though, a smile graced her lips.

"Thor has requested access to come home." She murmured, her fingers gracing up to the back of the chair. "Do you permit it?" A small tremor of elation slipped through her even tone, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

It had been months since he had seen any shed of happiness upon her features, and he could not deny that he, too, was ecstatic. Any piece of good news to try and reflect against the bad as of late was a welcomed companion. "Of course." He would reply sternly, making his way back to the throne in his usual, measured pace, the staff banging gently against the floor in sync with his every move. "Why would I deny his humble request, my wife?"

As soon as the elation had come, her emotionless appearance returned. It was obvious, of course, and he regretted muttering the words within an instant. She turned away from him, and she did not answer as he ascended the small flight of steps to his throne, standing beside her. He would pause, deliberating on whether or not to place a calming hand upon her shoulder. He thought wiser of it, and waited for her to speak, his hand remaining at his side.

There were countless more moments before she sighed a shaky breath.

"He will want admittance to see his brother, my husband. I fear… I fear that none of us will like what we find behind those doors…" Her breath hitched once more as her voice broke, and Odin's frame slumped, slipping silently within his throne. She looked to him for a comforting word, but when she looked back, his regal composure had once again returned, and she bristled.

"Will you say nothing?" She asked him in a tone mixed with confusion and bridled anger. When he did not answer, she spoke again, this time more vehemently. "You have not spoken of the son you sentenced to a lifetime of horrors and solitude! Have you shed a single tear for the child we have lost?"

His grip upon his staff tightened as he tried to keep his composure, his jaw taught as he sighed, closing his eye. "I did what any just ruler would do. I gave him a just trial and a just sentence. I refuse to speak of this any longer." He said lowly, commandingly. Usually she would have backed away, but months of seething emotions flooded into the Allmother at once.

"Do you think that, simply because you did not speak of him, that the horrors and heartache would just go away, as if they don't exist? Have you truly become that pitiless that you restricted all access to our son, and expect me not to mourn? I know the travesties that play behind the mirrors! Do not play me as a fool!" she spat, and the King's lids ripped open as he turned to his wife, millions of emotions spilling into him at once.

"I am no invalid to your emotions, wife!" He thundered, his voice ricocheting off the walls to resound back to the pair hollowly. "But I cannot simply change law because he is my son. I, too, mourn the loss of my wayward son, for it was I who was the one in which had sentenced him!" He rose briskly from his seat, facing her with his aged face contorted in anger.

"But I am King, as I have been since the dawn of time, and until Thor ascends to the throne in my place, I shalt not be less than what my duties require of me, even if it pains my heart to do so!" He continued, moving away from her to descend down the steps. "I cannot ignore the terrors that Loki has caused. He has changed, my wife, and I am sure you can see this! He is not the inquisitive boy you raised. He's a monster!"

His last word hung like death in the air, and he hardly believed it had passed his lips. He paused, two steps away from the final base of the stair, when she finally composed herself enough to speak.

"He is our son!" She shrieked in fury, though she remained in her place, tears welding in her eyes. Hurt and incredulousness stained her flawless voice, and the Allfather dared not turn to face his wife. "My son! Your son! He, who felt unloved by the ones who were supposed to love him most! We, who lied to him for countless years to try and save him from his hurt, only blacken his soul by it! He is no monster! He is Loki, the son we have lost one too many times, Odin. Our son…" she whispered brokenly, hugging herself to try to keep from falling apart.

And with that she fled the room with her emotions free, tears streaming down her face, recessing into the shadows as the Allfather stood alone within his throne room. After several moments he would ghost back to his chair, sitting down with an air of monarchy with his staff clutched dutifully within his grasp, musing and trying to forget his son as a lone tear trekked down his noble cheek.

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Subsiquently longer than the last two... I hope you guys dont hate me and people are still reading this.

I also hope Odin and Frigga aren't too OOC; theyre so darn hard to write for!

I may continue, or I may not. All depends on your guys' reactions.

Au revoir fellow Fanfictioners,

~ILJA~


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